


I've Got You

by supervillainesses



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Gotham City Sirens (Comics)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supervillainesses/pseuds/supervillainesses
Summary: Harley demands that she, Ivy, and Selina have a decent Christmas this year, and she's hell-bent on having it, even her well-being at risk in the process.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Weed mention, just a head's up. I have written a LOT of Christmas fics for Harley/Ivy idk why?

            Pam awoke, eyes still closed, feeling cold. Harley must have stolen the blankets. Again. Like always. Honestly, Pam didn’t need an alarm clock during the winter when she was constantly woken to bone-chilling cold because her bedfellow didn’t know how to share. Annoyed, she reached blindly to the left, searching for the soft downy duvet.

            “Harl,” she moaned groggily, “it’s too early for this. Gimme some blanket.”

            No answer.

            “Sweet pea, please.”

            No answer.

            “ _Harley Qui—MOTHER OF GOD_.”

            Pam rolled over to come face-to-face with a tiny, impish grin, which didn’t belong to Harley. She shot up in bed, standing on the mattress, and instantly vines coiled in from all sides from the pots in the windows, ready to strike the intruder down.

 

            “Red, calm down!” Harley ran in, a red hat askew on her head. She snatched up the grinning _thing_ and held it high for Pam to see. “It’s just a toy! Look!”

            With a curl of her hand, the vines twisted and redoubled in thickness, forming a ready assault. “What _is it?_ ”

            Harley grinned ear-to-ear. “ _Elf on a Shelf_!”

            Pam curled her upper lip. “Elf on a _what_ now?”

            “A shelf, Red! He’s this cute little guy ya put on ya kid’s shelf so they know Santa is watching and—”

            “Why was it in our bed?”

            “Oh,” Harley shrugged. “I dunno. Guess the _spirit of Christmas_ put him there.”

            “Harley.”

            “Fine, I thought it’d be cute if you woke up to him.”

            “Wow, it’s almost amazing how grossly you miscalculated.”

            “Math was never my thing, Red. Now can ya call off the vines? You’re startin’ to spook me.”

            Pam, frowning, kissed the angry knot of plants and willed them apart and away. She stepped down from the bed, lip still curled at the freakish little doll in Harley’s hand, but lifted Harley’s hat to kiss her temple.

            “You know I’d never use them on you,” she sighed, and pointed. “ _That_ abomination, however, would have been eviscerated.”

            “Wow, you really don’t like it.” Harley speculated the doll with a frown. “I thought he was kinda cute.”

            _Manic smile, evil glint in its cold black eyes, of course you’d have a fondness for it_. Pam did not voice these things; Joker, and all his menace, was behind them, now. She took the doll—still making a face at it—and placed it on the bedside table. She would either box it up or throw it away later.

            “The hat’s…definitely a statement, Harl.”

            “Red, you don’t know what today is, do ya?”

            “Let me think,” Pam cupped her chin in her hand, feigning ignorance. The longer she paused, the grumpier Harley’s face became; she really needed to put some sort of limit to how cute she could be so early in the morning. Pam grinned. “Easter Sunday? Wait, no, it’s St. Patty’s Day, which means we should get Selina to a bar right away.”

            “Leave the clownin’ to me, hippie.” Harley said dryly. “Can’t believe y’forgot it’s _Christmas_ , Red! We just exchanged gifts last night.”

            Pam, rolling her eyes, recalled the ten pounds of mulch she’d have to relocate to her greenhouse today, courtesy of one Miss Harley Quinn. Selina knew better; it was gift cards for both she and Harley this year. Ivy moved to replace the potting soil that had been discarded from her plants’ summoning. She smiled when Harley stooped beside her to help.

            “I didn’t forget, sweet pea. You’re Jewish, I’m non-practicing Jewish, and Selina is indifferent or spends it with the Waynes. We just never really celebrate it, and when we do we’re awfully informal.”

            “Well, all that’s gonna change. We’re gonna start some traditions around here, and we’re gonna start ’em now. Boys!” Harley stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled before Pam had time to brace herself; whistling, screaming, snoring—it seemed nearly everything the jester did was loud, and there were few situations Pam enjoyed the volume. “Look at them, Red. Mama’s precious little angels.”

            Literally. Harley had harnessed Bud and Lou into glittery angel wings and placed halo headbands on their heads. Ivy felt a twinge of empathy at just how defeated they looked; she was pretty sure that by the end of the day she would share the same disposition.

            Then Bud (Lou? Oh, who cared?) launched himself at the bedside table, and together he and Lou (Bud? One of them!) began ripping the Demon on a Shelf to shreds.

            “Oh, my.” Ivy smirked, holding Harley back by the waist from stopping the hyenas. “I like this tradition already.”

            Selina was already in the kitchen, sipping coffee as she leaned against the counter. Her hands were bandaged neatly, the length of the covered areas unknown because they traveled up the sleeves of her black turtleneck. Harley once called their resident cat burglar’s style “beatnik with a side of punk rock;” her bedhead and the sleepless shadows beneath her eyes only solidified that look.

            As soon as she set her eyes on Ivy, she thrust a bandaged finger in her direction.

            “You!”

            Ivy arched a brow. “Perceptive. I am, in fact, me.”

            Selina yanked up one of her sleeves, revealing that the bandages traveled at least to her elbows. She glared wide-eyed at Pam for a long moment.

            “Gee, Kitty.” Harley swooped in, getting a closer look at the patchwork. “What happened?”

            Selina continued to stare cuttingly at Ivy. Ivy folded her arms. “What?”

            “You did this! You and your freaky plants!”

            “ _Red_ ,” Harley sighed disapprovingly.

            “I’ve done nothing to her, Harley. She’s clearly delusional; must be a fever.”

            “I went looking for Isis last night,” Selina set her mug down and pressed a hand to her chest, as if delivering a speech to a herd of townspeople as opposed to two sleepy housemates. “Mama’s girl never strays far when it’s bedtime! Lo and behold, I find her sneaking off into _your greenhouse_.”

            “The one upstairs, or the one outside?” Harley asked.

            “Does it matter?” Pam asked in an undertone.

            “Shush, I’m trying to paint a backdrop to the story in my _mind_ , Red.”

            “Upstairs,” Selina clarified. “My poor little Isis, unbeknownst to her—”

            “Red, why was your upstairs greenhouse open if we were in my room last night?”

            “I like to hear my children sing while I sleep. It’s soothing.”

            “I didn’t hear anything,” Harley muttered, and Pam stroked a pigtail.

            “One day, perhaps you will.”

            “Hey,” there was a dark edge in Selina’s voice. “If you two are all right with it, I’m going to interrupt your _obvious flirting_ with my own problems for once, ’kay thanks.”

            “Okay, Cat, so’s ya follow the cat into the greenhouse.”

            “You went _into_ my greenhouse?” Pam snipped.

            “Red, calm it. I’m trying to listen.”

            “Once inside, I immediately lost sight of her. I didn’t know what to do. From my left, to my right, above and behind: Plants. Plants everywhere. So many. Everything was green. It was hot, and muggy, and dark as Hell. Then, from just beyond a small hedge of flowers, I heard soft mewling. It was Isis! My child was safe.”

            “Is this seriously how you tell stories, Selina? It’s nearly as bad as the Bat’s tendency to form soliloquys,” Pam drawled.

            “But then,” Selina went on forcefully, “I noticed Isis, my little girl, my small child, was acting peculiar. She had found something _appalling_ in your shrubs, Pamela.”

            From her pocket, Selina produced a small plastic baggie and threw it on the countertop.

            Harley crinkled her nose. “Izzat weed?”

            “Catnip!” Selina shouted at Pam. “You’d _dare_ grow such a disgusting thing in _my home?_ When I tried to pick Isis up, away from this…this… _hallucinogenic_ , she clawed my arm into ground chuck!”

            “Selina,” Pam spoke slowly, rage boiling up inside of her. “Plants are my thing. I grow them. Any plant. This includes catnip.”

            “Does it also include weed?” Harley chimed in. “Y’know, at all?”

            Selina made a face. “Why catnip?”

            “Why cockleshells? Or parsnips, for that matter? Thyme, lemons, oak, moss—my children can only exist if they are called into existence. You name it, I grow it.”

            “Okay, yeah, but what about weed?” Harley asked again.

            Pam and Selina stared at her.

            “What?” She shrugged.

            Ivy turned her attention back to Selina. “ _You_ , on the other hand, have definitely crossed a line. Entering my slice of Eden and ruthlessly cutting down one of my children is unconscionable—”

            “ _Red!_ ” Harley got between her and Selina. “What about weed?”

            Pam pressed both hands to her face.

            “What’s she doing?” Selina asked slowly.

            “Oh, _that_ ,” Pam could hear Harley’s eye-roll in her tone. “That’s just what she does when she tries to will people out of existence.”

            “Us?”

            “No, people.”

            “We are people.”

            “Yeah.”

            “So, us.”

            “Yeah, and the rest of mankind is, too, if ya get what I’m saying.”

            “ _Ohhhh_.”

            “Are you finished?” Pam asked from behind her palms. “And by finished, I of course mean _dead_.”

            “Nah, ya don’t.” Harley pecked both of Ivy’s hands. “Stop shielding ya peepers and help me make breakfast a’ready.”

            “Um,” Selina spoke up tentatively, pouring the bag of catnip down the kitchen sink. Pam resisted the urge to rip out her epiglottis through sheer force of good will toward man. “I already ate.”

            Harley threw her hands in the air. “Well, that’s just _great!_ Little Miss Suzy Homewrecker here gets a little snacky and ruins the whole family meal! Fuggedaboutit, we’re gonna skip to phrase two!”

            “Phase two,” Selina corrected.

            “Whatever!”

            “Wait, but _I’m_ hungry, Harley.” Pam placed a hand on her shoulder.

            “Hold ya titties, Pam! Gotta wait ’til _lunch_ now ’cause of Munchies McGee here. This is Christmas. If little baby Jesus had time to fly around the world and pick up all those white guys and their camels and kick a star into the sky, _and_ give presents to the less fortunate orphans of the desert, then we’ve got time to ice skate.”

            “Whoa,” Selina gasped. “I really must not’ve paid attention in Catholic school. Baby Jesus sounds kickass.”

            “There was also a ghost, too.” Harley nodded. “And Frankenstein’s monster!”

            “You mean Frankenstein?”

            “Nah, Cat. Frankenstein was the guy who _made_ the monster. The monster doesn’t have a name.”

            “Aw,” Selina clenched her hand into a fist. “Aw, that’s so sad. Aw.”

            “There was no ghost,” Pam rolled her eyes. “Also, it’s frankincense. The _Wise_ _Men_ gave little baby Jesus frankincense, myrrh, and gold. Really, the third guy should have just stayed home with his gold, in my opinion. Also, he didn’t fly anywhere. He was just…y’know, born.”

            “Oh,” Harley squinted. “Then, the whole damn day’s based on some baby being born and sleeping like babies just _do?_ That’s kinda dumb.”

            “I think there’s a _little_ more to it than that, Harl. Since I fixed your story, can we stop for pancakes on our way to ice skating?”

            “I vote for breakfast, too, but only because I need to eat to get over how _sad_ Frankenstein’s monster must’ve been,” Selina looked out the window, a distant expression on her face. “No _name_ , man. Aw.”

* * *

 

            After thirty minutes of listening to Harley and Selina shout back and forth to each other from backseat and front (“I want to ride shotgun!” “Pass me the hash browns or die!” “Stop singing a different song when there’s one playing on the radio, Quinn!”), they finally arrived at Robinson Park.

            Pam got out of the driver’s seat, shaking from both rage and the cold. Selina had made an absolute mess of the backseat, littering the floor with food wrappers and fallen bits of her breakfast; she’d even stained the upholstery with coffee. The cat burglar exited the vehicle, wiping off her greasy hands on her pant legs.

            “I’m gonna go rent us some skates!” Harley announced brightly, hopping from leg-to-leg in what could be read as excitement, but Pam knew it was because she had dressed in a skirt and tights to emulate the typical ice skater look. Harley was always one to accessorize. “ _Don’t_ kill each other. Promise?”

            The two women made some noncommittal sounds in response, and Harley sped off.

            Ivy snatched Selina by the collar of her leather jacket and glared.

            “Listen to me, fleabag.” Selina’s eyes widened at the malice in Pam’s whisper. “You’ve entered my greenhouse, hacked up one of my children, and now you’ve sullied my car. I’m letting you _off_ because it’s clear to me Harley thinks we need you around for today. If it were up to me, you’d be mulched.”

            Selina folded her arms, a cross expression on her face. “Why’s _that_ stopping you? You’ve flogged me for less.”

            A thought occurred to Pam. “You’re not…are you _purposefully_ starting a fight with me?”

            “I’m not the one who yanked on the back of my jacket.”

            “Selina.”

            Two pairs of green eyes, Selina’s softer and more natural than Pam’s, locked in a hard gaze. “Look, just know I woke up this morning ready for today to end, all right? If I fight with you, then Harley’s less likely to get sad over my not wanting to participate in today’s field trip, Miss Frizzle.”

            Ivy, squinting, released her hold on the thief’s collar. “Then why are you here?”

            “Same reason _you_ are,” Selina tugged at her jacket, straightening it out. “I don’t think there’s a person alive who wants to let Harley ‘Sunshine and Rainbows’ Quinn down.”

            “Wrong,” Ivy muttered darkly. “There will always be _one_ person who could never be bothered to care. Not that I consider him a person in any fashion.”

            Selina made a low whistle. “You, um, seem to really hate him. More so than Batman; believe me, he has _reason_ to hate him.”

            Pam could feel her hands clenching into fists, so tightly her nails dug into her palms. “So do I.”

            Selina cocked her head, a smirk on her face. “It’s all on her behalf, isn’t it?”

            “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            “It’s sort of nice, y’know. I get it—you won’t ever admit it, so let me _postulate_ , because you and I, we’re two opposite types. I speak my mind; you keep it inside until you get emotionally constipated. You care what happens to Harley, no matter what you say. I do, too. Hell, most of Gotham will say that Joker was the worst thing that’s happened to her. Even the newspapers feel sorry for her.”

            “They also say that Harley _deserves_ what she gets, because she chooses to stay!” Pam snarled, feeling her muscles tighten like wound springs. Fisticuffs were not her style, and she would never win in a physical fight against Selina. “It was headlines about Harley and that pinstriped monster that made me stop reading the newspapers, you simpering cat! They _blamed Harley_ for the abuse! They claimed she _liked_ it; must have, if she stuck around so long. They painted her up as a slut, even though she was so _good_ when he…so _innocent_ when they… They don’t understand. They don’t see that Harley is _sick_ , that she needs—”

            “You?” Selina interrupted quietly, a brow arched. “I understand the need to help her. Harley’s had me strapped to a conveyer belt to my death once or twice before. I should hate her, right? But every time we met when she wasn’t off doing something for the clown, it was like I was talking to an entirely different person. I found myself saying, _what is this bubblegum-chomping sweetheart doing mixed up with these creeps?_ Then she ran off with you a couple years ago, and my god, I’d never seen her so okay. I’d never even though it possible for you to be happy, Queen Sourpuss. _Healthily_ happy, the two of you. Each time I saw you guys in the newspapers together, I sort of wished…”

            Selina trailed off, casting a glance over her shoulder. Harley was coming down the trail back to the lot, three pairs of ice skates haphazardly stowed in her arms.

            “I sort of wished you two would never have to part.” Selina turned her smiling face toward the direction of the sunlight cracking through the downy clouds. She looked once more at Harley as she struggled to keep the skates bundled. “She’s sort of like a dog, how determined she is.”

            “Harley isn’t a dog,” the statement was heated by the lingering anger in Pam, thinking on older times and unhappy things.

            “Nah, I mean it in a good way. Look at her,” she took Pam by the shoulder and framed Harley’s approach in a circle of her fingers. “With those floppy little pigtails, she’s a golden retriever. Loyal, affectionate, kinda slobbery—”

            “She’s not a dog,” but Ivy was chuckling in spite of herself. Damn Selina; she was so good at shifting the mood. If she could work this magic on Pam, she could only imagine what affect it would have on Batman.

             “I get it, rosebush. Plants need things that are sunny and bright, if you get what I mean.” Selina smirked. “You know, since you’ve stopped reading the papers, you probably missed it when they finally wrote the truth.”

            “Newspapers, printing the truth? Seems unlikely.”

            “Oh, I don’t know. They seemed to think you were better for Harley than that clown ever was, so I suppose they can’t be wrong all the time.”

            She moved to help Harley, smugly humming “You Are My Sunshine” as she went.

* * *

 

            “R-Red?” Harley stuttered. “How’d you get so far out?”

            Pam spun back to face Harley on the ice. She was halfway to the center of the frozen lake, and Harley was still clinging to the wooden posts around the perimeter. Her legs were shaking like a newborn giraffe’s. The image of Harley as a giraffe quickly shifted to Selina’s notion of their friend as a rambunctious retriever, and it brought a quiet burst of laughter to her lips, softening the curiously uncomfortable mood Selina had put her in moments ago. She glided back over to Harley, and hooked her arm beneath hers.

            “First off,” Pam said, smirking as Harley clung onto her. “I’d like to say congratulations on surprising me. I never thought you’d be unable to skate. It was your idea to come here, right?”

            “Y-yeah,” Harley whimpered, trying her hardest to remain upright. This was fine by Pam; holding Harley lent warmth. She also had a strangely proud feeling, knowing people on the ice were watching their interaction. A few girls around the age of ten went by in a phalanx, tittering and muttering about them. “B-But it’s Christmas!”

            “Did you think you’d suddenly be granted the power to ice skate just because of the day of the year?”

            “Well…” Harley’s cheeks reddened.

             “I’d also like to inform you that there are kids here less than five years old who are skating circles around you.”

            Harley pouted. Pam flinched; she hadn’t meant it was mean as it sounded. Pam situated Harley again, so they were more comfortably linked.

            “You have to calm yourself,” Pam instructed. “Your legs are locking and shaking too badly to keep you upright. Close your eyes, take a few breaths, and let me guide you. I’ve got you, okay?”

            “Yeah,” Harley breathed. “Y’got me.”

            If Pam thought merely holding Harley up was going to work, she was entirely mistaken. It was certainly better than unleashing the pigtailed-menace on her own. After an hour of guiding her around, and Selina _still_ humming that song as she did her own thing on the ice, Harley finally declared it time to head home.

            “Harley, you’re limping,” Pam noted as Harley stepped through the snow on their way back to the car Selina had already seated herself in again. “Are you all right?”

            “Oh, yeah!” Harley bounced up, as if for emphasis. “Peachy keen. My legs are just tired.”

            Pam was wary, but let it pass.

            Once home, Harley shucked her coat and boots onto the floor, walking away as if she had never had them on to begin with. Selina followed suit.

            “I’m not a _maid_ , you know!” Pam shouted to them, but received only mutters in return as she neatly but their belongings in the hall closet. Honestly, sometimes she felt like a single mother living with two unruly children, instead of a vaguely megalomaniacal super-villainess. When she entered their living room, she found that both women were attempting something that looked vaguely sinister to their television. “Are you rigging a bomb in our house?”

            “It’s a VCR, Pam.” Harley huffed. “God, I know ya older than me, but it’s only by a coupla years.”

            “Yeah, I’m older than both of you, and I know what one looks like, Pam.”

            Ivy grew red in the cheeks. “Look, my family didn’t have one growing up, okay? We didn’t believe in television.”

            They both turned to stare at her blankly.

            “What,” Selina spoke up quietly, “what kind of hell house did you grow up in?”

            Ivy shook her head and lounged on the sofa, watching them as they hooked the device up. “We have a DVD player, you know.”

            “Yeah, but this is more authentic!” Harley bounced up, beaming from their finished work. “I’ve got a big box of holiday movies I scored from the thrift shop in Old Gotham. Be right back!”

            This left Selina and Pam alone again.

            “Why did you want this day to be over?” Pam asked. “Like you said earlier?”

            “What, you think that because I helped you open up by putting words in your mouth, that just a bit of prodding is gonna crack me?”

            Pam arched a brow. “Is it your sister?”

            Selina sprung to her feet, brows trenched. “I _know_ you don’t actually care, Ives, but if you want me to open up, _fine._ Is it my sister? Yes. Is it Bruce? Yes. Is it Batman? Yes. Is it because my own cat got high and mauled my arms to hell? Yes. Is it the fact that I’m third-wheeling this holiday between you and Harley? Hell fucking yes. So, yeah, I’m one helluva grouch today, so stop poking the bear.”

            Pam snorted.

            “What?”

            “Nothing, I just thought you’d say mountain lion or something. You must really be off today if you didn’t jump on a cat pun. I may not read the papers, Selina, but I’m not deaf. You think Batman is involved with Wonder Woman, is that it on that front? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d never fall for a goodie-good like you did with the Bat, but if _Wonder Woman_ offered me so much as punch to the face, I think I’d take it.”

            “ _Really_ not making me feel better here.”

            “Who said I was aiming for that?” Pam smirked, taking the cat’s momentary pain as the first of many reconciliatory acts for her transgressions against her plants. “If you ask me, even if there’s something _there_ it will never last. Honestly, what could _Batman_ offer to someone who’s practically a goddess walking the earth? It’s clear he prefers the company of someone who will leap from rooftops at his side, not just fly effortlessly above him.”

            “I get it,” Selina muttered, her cheeks starting to pink.

            “And as for that flouncy pretty boy Bruce Wayne, I’ll never understand what you see in him. Honestly. Well, aside from his wealth and large estate. Did you know Harley and I took him for a spin a few Christmases ago? Wore out I think…four of his credit cards before Batman showed up. He definitely wasn’t a good sport. He certainly has many admirers, right?” Pam arched a brow, trying and failing at baiting Selina. “Yet he always comes back to you. You’re equal parts socialite and rough-and-tumble tomboy. It’s like he’s choosing to stay with a reflection of himself. When people say that love is vanity, I think they were talking about you two. So, why aren’t you electing to spend the day with him and his collection of wards?”

            “He…has a lot of family stuff on his plate right now; I’m giving him space.” Selina rubbed her arm. “He always comes back to me, huh?”

            Pam made a face. “Sickeningly so. And you say that as if you guys _aren’t_ family at this point. Isn’t it better to test the waters and come back defeated, instead of not trying at all?”

            Selina narrowed her eyes. “Why…are you helping me?”

            Pam arched her brows, touching her chest. “ _Helping_ you? My dear Miss Kyle, I believe you’re mistaken. I want you out of this house, and I’m merely trying to get you out of here as quickly as possible. Is it working?”

            “Slightly.”

            Smirking, Pam waited until she could hear Harley running down the stairs. She stood, not responding to the puzzled expression on Selina’s face. Three, two, one—

            “ _HOW DARE YOU?_ ”

            Harley skidded to a halt at the entrance of the living room at Pam’s shout. Her eyes were wide, and so were Selina’s.

            “If you _ever_ say that to me again, I will personally put an end to your life here on earth! Go, get out of my face, out of this _house_ until I can stomach your presence again!”

            “What’s happening?” Harley stepped between them. “Don’t tell me you two are fighting on Christmas, of all days?”

            Ivy, casting a look over Harley’s shoulder, hoped Selina would for once be smart enough to pick up what she was putting down.

            “I dunno, she just—”

            Ivy glared.

            “I-I mean, I told her something—something really, really mean, Harley! I told her that, um, she’s really dumb, and that she, uh, should start wearing more clothes around the house!”

            Pam closed her eyes and breathed as if hit. Some _con artist_. Selina apparently could charm men out of their riches, but couldn’t spin a lie in front of the cherubic face of Harley Quinn to save her soul.

            “Cat,” Harley leaned forward to speak in an undertone. “You’re my friend, and I love ya, but ya made her real mad this time. Why don’t ya go to the Waynes for a little while, until she cools down?”

            “Aww,” even her sounds of defeat sounded false. “Shucks, all right. See ya guys later.”

            Harley set the box of videos on the floor and placed her hands on her hips, watching as Selina left. She sighed when the door closed behind the cat burglar.

            “She is just the _worst_ liar, Red.”

            Pam shook her head, smiling. “Thought we had you fooled for a second, sugar.”

            “Can’t fool a fool, y’know. I mean, if she wanted to spend Christmas with those rich snooty-pants so much, she could’ve just _said_. I wouldn’t’ve minded spending Christmas with just y—”

            Pam grabbed the back of Harley’s neck and pulled her in tight for a kiss. Harley was too startled to immediately reciprocate, but after a few breaths she parted her lips and joined the dance. Pam had just knotted her hand in the back of Harley’s sweater, edging her back toward the sofa, when Harley pulled from her, gasping as her hands held Pam at arm’s length by her shoulders.

            “Hell of a time to tell me I’m a bad kisser, Harl.” Pam muttered.

            She tried to hide her disappointment at the rejection, something apparently only the harlequin could do. Pam could go out on the town and pick up anyone she wanted; rejection had never been an issue for her before. So whenever Harley denied her, however few the occasions, it was like the slap of a welding iron to the gut. Harley was glaring at her, making the stinging feeling mingle with guilt.

            “Red, we both know your kisses could make the _Pope_ get rid of celibacy,” she said, much to Pam’s relief. At the very least, she wasn’t angry she kissed her. Maybe. “You’re just trying to get outta watchin’ movies with me!”

            “What?” It was Pam’s turn to be the bad liar. “No way. Honey, sugar, sweet potato—”

            “Well, if ya don’t wanna watch ’em, then I guess Christmas is over.”

            “Sweet pea…”

            “Don’t use ya fancy nicknames on me, Pamela Isley. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go soak my feet in the tub!”

            Harley turned up her nose, leaving Pam in the living room. Bud and Lou came out of hiding from the next room over, their heads ducked low as if they could sense their master’s displeasure.

            “This is all your fault,” Pam snapped in an undertone; if they hadn’t destroyed that elf thing earlier, then maybe she would have had one more straw to place on Harley’s back before she broke. They whimpered at her tone, and Pam’s rage softened enough for her to pat their heads consolingly. The hyenas were far from the perfect pets, but less temperamental than Isis by far. Though she preferred the feel of soil between her fingers, dense fur was also pleasant. “Soak her feet…?”

            Following her sudden hunch, Pam went on the pursuit in Harley’s direction. Bud and Lou kept pace behind her, probably attracted to her speed, and together she and the babies burst open the bathroom door to find Harley sobbing at the edge of the filling tub.

            She turned to Pam before turning back, but it was enough time to spy that she was crying.

            “Harl,” Pam sat down beside her, back to the tub as it filled with hot water, giving her a clear view of Harley’s face. She placed a hand on her bare knee, frowning at how cold her leg, now free of her white tights, was. “You didn’t wear socks in your skates, did you?”

            Harley’s best trait was being good at staying stubbornly quiet.

            “Harley?”

            Nothing.

            “Sweet pea?”

            Harley upturned her nose. Pam shooed away the hyenas, mostly to make more space in the bathroom. They left with their heads lowered yet again. She’d have to let them romp in her gardens to make it up to them. Ugh, making up with the hyenas? The world was completely mad.

            “Please, sweetie?”

            She turned her head away, exposing her neck. Pam, blushing furiously, leaned in so her lips barely touched the open skin, to whisper three words the two women seldom used toward each other.

            Harley, blushing too, scooted sideways against the lip of the tub so she could place her wet foot in Pam’s lap. Ivy resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and examined the dainty thing Harley placed before her.

            “Oh, _Harl_ ,” Pam sighed. The skin of the heel was peeled away, bleeding and angrily scarlet, as were other bonier bits of the foot. Luckily, the toes appeared intact. She reached beside the tub and grabbed a dry washcloth, drying the wound. She’d have to repeat it on Harley’s other foot. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me your feet were hurting while we were on the ice?”

            “Y…” Harley sniffled hard, crying either from pain or embarrassment as Pam dabbed at her feet. “Ya were…ya were having _fun_ , I didn’t wanna ruin the fun times.”

            Pam sighed nasally. “I was having fun because _you_ were having fun, Harley. Or I thought you were, at least.”

            “But I was!” Harley asserted. “I mean, aside from the feet thing. I’m sorry I snapped at ya like I did; it was honesty because of how bad—”

            “No, Harley. This time, I’m apologizing. All you wanted was to celebrate this day…like a _family_ , and I’ve spent the whole time poking holes in your fun or trying to stop it. It was wrong of me. What makes you happy makes _me_ happy. If I’m going to celebrate with anyone, I want to celebrate with you.”

            “Okay, this probably goes against the breakthrough we’re having, but now I completely wanna make-out with you.”

            Pam chuckled, examining Harley’s injuries. “It’ll have to wait. I’m going to take you downstairs, get some salve from my greenhouse, and we’re going to watch all the movies you want.”

            “And then we can make-out, right?”

            Playfully, never breaking eye-contact, Pam placed a soft, lingering kiss on Harley’s foot, relishing in the blonde’s shiver.

            “We’ll see,” Pam winked.

            “Tease.”

            Once the salve and bandages were retrieved, Pam sat beside Harley on the downstairs sofa as the opening credits to _It’s a Wonderful Life_ began to play.

            “Gee, I always thought James Stewart was kinda dreamy,” Harley sighed as Pam gently massaged the translucent green medicine to Harley’s feet. “Not as dreamy as this guck ya puttin’ on my feet, though. Ever consider marketing your stuff? Babe, ya’d be rich.”

            “Humanity is not worthy of the wonders I can create.”

            “But I am?” Harley blushed.

            Pam smiled. “Of course.”

            “Gee,” she lounged back into the arm of the couch. “How come ya so good to me, Red?”

            “Isn’t it obvious?”

            Harley rolled her eyes, wincing slightly as Pam began winding the Ace bandages around the tender flesh. “I mean aside the fact that ya love me.”

            Pam’s wrapping slowed. “Do you want the good truth, or the bitter truth?”

            Harley paused. “I want the real truth.”

            “Plainly speaking, you’ve had it so bad that I can’t bring myself to make you feel worse for very long.” Pam confided. “There, all finished. No acrobatics for at least a week.”

            “Aww,” Harley groaned. “A _week?_ What are we gonna do in this house for a week?”

            Pam gave her a look.

            “Oh,” Harley chuckled tightly, red in the face. “Well, I guess I could handle some of _that_ for a week. Pretty good trade. Can I say something, though?”

            “Harley, when has _anything_ ever stopped you from speaking your mind?”

            “Ya said you don’t like making me feel bad for long,” Harley averted her eyes from Pam sheepishly. “But ya still yell at me, and get mad.”

            “I snap at you, berate you, but only because I want to remind you how _smart_ you are. You’re one of the kindest, gentlest people I’ve ever encountered, and I sometimes can’t believe the world is so unkind to not give anything back to you.”

            “Can’t be too unkind,” Harley muttered. “If it gave me you.”

            “I’d like to immediately cash-in your previous offer to make-out now.”

            Harley’s brows went up. “Really? Why?”

            “Right away, right now,” Pam stretched out so she was lying half on top of Harley and between her and the back of the sofa, connecting their lips as firmly as two oppositely polarized magnets. Harley pulled away again. “ _What now?_ ”

            “What about the mulch?” Harley jutted her thumb at the ten-pound sack beneath the plastic tree Selina had bought without her consent. “Ain’tcha gotta move it to the greenhouse?”

            Pam leaned in for another searing kiss. “Fuck the mulch.”

            Harley nodded. “Fuck the mulch.”

* * *

 

            Just over an hour later, Harley and Ivy were awoken by a bright light. They were, annoyingly, fully clothed, but Pam didn’t have much of a decision in that. Harley fell asleep within fifteen minutes of Pam joining her on the sofa, and since Pam was so entwined in the blonde’s arms, the only option was to nap, too. The movie was still going, but the bright light which had caused them to stir came from Selina’s cell phone.

            “Wakey, wakey, assholes,” Selina greeted happily, lowering her light and sitting down at the coffee table beside the sofa.

            “Why’re ya back so soon?” Harley asked, sleepily rubbing at her eyes. Pam resisted the urge to pull her in for another round. “Last year you visited Mr. Money Bags and were gone two days. It’s only been two hours.”

            “His son kicked me in the knee and called me a whore when he caught me kissing Bruce after dinner.”

            “Oh,” Harley nodded. “Wait, which one?”

            “His real son. The little one.”

            Pam snorted. “You got beat up by a ten-year-old?”

            “A ten-year-old wearing wingtip shoes, thankyouverymuch,” even in the stark light of the black and white film, Selina’s blush was evident. She reached into her jacket pocket and placed a baggie on the table. “Ladies, I propose to you a _merrier_ Christmas.”

            “More catnip?” Harley asked.

            “Nah,” Selina grinned. “What you’ve been waiting for, clowny girl.”

            “You _did_ have weed in there, Red!” Harley clapped, sitting up and staring at the bag. Pam groaned and followed suit, leaning against Harley’s shoulder to keep upright against the nap-lag. “I know ya probably not for it, ’cause it’s burning a plant, but…”

            Pam rolled her eyes. “Why not?”

            “Yay!” Harley chirped. “Wow, Selina, you’re… _really_ good at rolling those up.”

            Selina chuckled as she worked the paper on the table. “Listen, I went to Catholic school, _I know how to roll a blunt_.”

            She handed one to Pam, then Harley, and the produced a lighter.

            “Merry Christmas, ladies,” Selina held hers up, as if to toast.

            Harley took a slow drag.  “And a Happy New Year.”


End file.
